


Frosty winds made moan

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [82]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow day on Coruscant, the Solos host a sleepover (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frosty winds made moan

“I don’t believe it.”

Han opens his eyes to see exactly what it is Leia can’t believe. Except she’s not sitting at her desk anymore; she’s standing, face practically pressed up against the window.

He pulls his feet off the desk, the newly-familiar twinge of pain in his back prickling, and rises to join her.

It becomes apparent what’s caught her attention almost immediately. It’s snowing. What’s more, it’s sticking, at least an inch of it. ( _How long was he asleep? Did he and Chewie dock the Falcon in the indoor hangar?_ )

“When was the last time this happened?” he asks, stooping to rest his head on her shoulder, arms around her waist.

“I don’t know – never, as far as I remember.”

Just from her distant tone, Han can tell she’s thinking about the conference on New Alderaan she’s supposed to attend. He’s got to pull her back.

“Guess you’ve got more time for me now,” he says low in her ear.

Sharply, “Don’t think that I’m not going –”

Protests are cut short as his hand slips under her shirt and his lips touch the nape of her neck. The more hair that falls loose from their tight knots, the more complete his victory.

In the aftermath, Han always wonders what sort Jedi reflexes come into play and how she spins around so fast, pinning him to the edge of her desk, craning upwards. In the moment though, he never cares.

“You’re not getting a ride over from me, honey,” he finally manages to choke out.

“Fine, sofa then,” she gasps, still fully authoritative.

Carrying her over is less of an exertion than he anticipates. Maybe he isn’t as old as he thinks he is. As old as Chewie reminds him he is.

It’s not only him. Leia complains about what war and politics and three children have done to her. She is skeptical when he says she looks as beautiful as she did when he first fell in love with her.

“You don’t remember,” she says, wryly.

( _He remembers exactly. She was making rounds to see if all the Alliance ships were ready for launch. It wasn’t the first time she’d tinkered with the Falcon, but watching her, he knew he was a goner._ )

On the sofa in her office isn’t the stuff of great romance, but it is one of their favorites. It is a place of reunions and farewells.

Another inch of snow may have fallen or it may have all melted away in the time they’ve found their way to their old spot, skin pressed to skin.

Han’s automatic habit of running his fingers through Leia’s hair is rudely interrupted when she jerks her head up off his shoulder to look out the window again, his free hand on her hip keeping balance. Han watches her face intently as her lip curls up in annoyance.

Sometimes Han misses exchanges between the kids, though Leia catches them as easily as if they are yelling. Reading Leia is rarely so elusive, but he does not press his luck, not tonight.

“Still going?” He tries not to sound too hopeful.

Leia sighs, then laughs softly, “You won this round. I’ll stay tonight, but I’m going first thing in the morning.”

She punctuates her last words with gentle prods to his chest.

“Good enough for me.”

For someone who likes the cold a little too much, Leia emanates all the warmth Han needs. And he’ll deal with all his stiffness when she rises.

\----------

The high drifts on the Temple are too good to pass up when Bee, Sam, and Pres arrive. There _has_ to be a snowball fight.

Shmi and Uncle Luke approach from the other side, working through the deep snow.

Sam spits out teams before Shmi makes it over to them, “Me and Bee; you and Shmi.”

Bee watches Pres put on his serious face, already self-important at his recent graduation to padawan. ( _Sam calls it his “mom face.”_ )

“No, you and Bee can’t be on the same team – that’s not fair to Shmi.”

Not fair to him, he means.

“Hey!” their cousin protests. Bee would as well, but grudgingly sees his point.

“Who do you want to team up with?” Bee asks Shmi.

“Sam, duh.”

Bee figures she should have seen it coming. Despite her advantage in height, there’s little doubt which of them is the scrappier fighter. She tries not to feel hurt she wasn’t Shmi’s choice.

Sam doesn’t bother to conceal her grumbling thoughts: she and Bee would have made a better team, but Bee quickly blocks it out. Her mind goes quiet, like the world blanketed in snow.

She’ll make this a practice in different ways to use the Force.

Sam and Shmi dash off to the far side of the Temple; Bee and Pres crouch behind a tall bank. Bee crosses her fingers and toes Sam’s unable to hear her and find the pair of them strategizing their attack and stockpiling snowballs.

Since he left the youngling chamber, Bee’s watched Pres try to perfect everything. He is careful with everything: mom and dad, the boring parties they have to go to on New Alderaan, the Force.

( _Or maybe it was since grandfather. Bee and Sam made a pact after that night not to think about it so much._ )

“So if we come around the north side –”

Bee cuts Pres off, “No, there’s a ledge over there. Sam’d think it’s a good place to ambush us.”

Pres’s face screws up in concentration, “Would she expect us to know that? What if we just throw snowballs at her from far away?”

“I think you’re forgetting what Shmi’s planning to do,” says a new voice.

Though it’s still overcast, Bee squints upwards at Set. Pres jumps to attention.

“Master Set!”

Before Bee can tease Pres for his newfound formality with Set – _smack._

Two snowballs hit Pres, one on the side of the head, the other on the back.

“Hey!”

Before she’s thought what she should do, Bee scoops up some of their stash of snowballs and bolts for the retreating figures of her sister and cousin, whooping in delight.

Snow still thick and deep, Bee gains on them fast – longer legs after all. But just as she is on them, she gets an idea. Stopping short, she slides down the face of the wall to the lower level.

“Where’d she go?!” Shmi asks, but Sam’s already figured it out. She peers over the edge and Bee has her chance.

The snowball lands full-force in Sam’s face, knocking her backwards.

Bee screams in delight, but victory doesn’t last long. Sam’s recovered and tears down the slope to attack her, snowballs or no. They both roll into a deep mound of snow, hair soaked and in complete disarray. Exhausted from the fray, they give up the tussle and lay there, staring up at the greying sky.

“Draw?” Bee offers. If it was anyone else, Sam would say no, but she nods.

“You had good timing find me and Pres. How’d –”

“Shmi’s idea. Set was looking for him; Shmi convinced him to distract you guys.”

From her spot on the ground, Bee sees Shmi more cautiously teeter down the side to where she and Sam lie. She hesitates and stands awkwardly over them.

“Come here,” Bee pats the empty snow next to her, fingers tingling.

Shmi breaks out into a grin and plops down on her left; Sam to her right. She may be completely wet and cold but her heart thumps happily. Flakes fall and Bee blinks them out of her eyes.

Absently, “Guess mom’s staying another night.”

Shmi stiffens and a wave of guilt runs through Bee. All the snow meant Aunt Mara couldn’t come home the night before. Bee reaches over and squeezes Shmi’s hand tight.

Sam sits up fast, scheming a plan, “You and Uncle Luke should sleep over tonight! And Ahsoka and Set!”

“There isn’t enough room!” says Shmi despairing Sam’s plan ever coming true.

“We’ll figure it out,” Bee promises.

“And you will all be late if you don’t get inside now and get into dry things,” says Ahsoka in the distance.

“Aww, Ahsoka, who ratted us out?” Sam yells back.

_Master Ahsoka_ , Bee pleads. ( _It’s the rules they set up. At home, she’s Ahsoka; everywhere else and most especially the Temple, she’s Master Ahsoka._ )

_Shut up._

“Your brother, because that’s what they’re for. Come on, don’t start a bad habit.”

Sam groans dramatically, and Shmi starts to get up, eager to please. Bee has another idea.

“ _Master_ Ahsoka, what if some our lesson was out here. For sensing others and concentrating and –” Bee’s not really sure of other practical purposes, “– stuff.”

_Good idea_ , Sam approves.

_Shut up._

All three hold their breath, waiting for Ahsoka to decide.

“All right –” The girls squeal in unified delight. ( _Like Ahsoka would say no._ ) “– but we still need to go in and let everyone know. And I need you in fresh clothes. Your parents won’t let me hear the end of it if you all caught colds.”

“Yes, Master Ahsoka!” they chime, dutiful students, but more ready to get back to a day of snowball fights.

The fresh snow is ready for them.

\----------

The evening is perfect. It’s like those times mom takes them to Naboo only better because they’re all here.

“Except Aunt Mara,” Pres’s conscious reminds him. He steals a glance at Shmi, who puts on a brave face, despite nothing actually being wrong. If something were wrong, Uncle Luke wouldn’t be laughing at something dad said.

He still scooches close to Shmi, to make sure she’s included.

“Need more hot chocolate?”

“No, thanks,” Shmi replies, barely audible over the roar of laughter from Chewie and Mas– Ahsoka joining dad and Uncle Luke.

‘No’ means ‘yes, she would’, but is too preoccupied to otherwise ask. Bee and Sam do it too. Pres’ll get her more.

When he stands up, Bee and Sam pull away from Set and crowd Shmi. Pres loses sight of her face mixed in with his sisters.

Mom’s in the kitchen alone, making more hot chocolate of her own. “Ready for more, kiddo?”

“And for Shmi – Mom, why isn’t she having fun?”

Mom sighs like Pres is supposed to know already, but her eyes are still smiling.

“She misses her mom. It’s hard, knowing she’s just beyond Coruscant and the snow’s making it impossible to land. You and your sisters lucked out I decided to stay before it got awful. Unless you wanted to keep dad all to yourself?”

Pres’s protest dies when he sees the corners of mom’s mouth turn up.

“Keep her company and she won’t even notice Aunt Mara’s gone until she’s back.”

“I’m trying,” Pres replies earnestly.

“Good boy,” mom says as she wraps an arm around his shoulders.

( _If Sam were in the room, he’d shrug away. For all her disdain for parental affection, she’d gladly take mom’s hug, as long as no one else sees it._ )

Mom kisses Pres near the top of his head as the final act, not quite succeeding.

“Gods, you’re getting tall. I want you and your sisters to stay my babies forever. At least it looks like Sam’ll stay closer to me.”

“She could have growth spurt and end up as tall as dad,” Pres smirks.

Mom laughs, “That very well may be.”

“Besides, the Force isn’t about stagnation, it’s about moving forward.”

“You always were my industrious student. Maybe I need to brush up on my Jedi teachings.”

“Maybe you do,” Pres snarks.

Mom smacks him lightly on the shoulder, “Smartass. Go bring Shmi the hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

Shmi lights up when Pres hands her a new mug of hot chocolate and watches Bee, Sam and Set near the window.

“They’re plenty cozy at the Temple, trust me,” Set assures the girls.

Pres believes him, but wouldn’t trade spots for the galaxy.

He holds back in joining them. Pres wanted to be Set’s padawan as long as he can remember, and now he is, old habits are suddenly strange.

He shouldn’t be afraid, but it’s a lot of pressure to live up to his grandfathers’ legacies. The girls got it easy, he resentfully thinks sometimes. They may be princesses ( _a reminder that always sends Sam into a fit of giggles_ ), but they’re not the firstborn. He’s got to do Grandfather Organa, his namesake, proud. He’s got to do the same for Grandfather Skywalker.

( _Thankfully, dad reminds him not to worry about Granddad Solo. The only thing any of them will inherit from the Solos comes straight from dad._ )

Set must have picked up on Pres’s hesitance while he brooded. “Come on, you’ll probably never see something like this in your life again.”

Pres steps up, doubts falling away. He can still be friends with Set. It’ll be okay.

When he reaches the window, it’s hard not to gasp a little. The city still blinks and glitters like it always does at night, but it’s through feet and feet of thick white snow. Mom tells them about how they’d get lots of snow on Alderaan, but Pres could never imagine that much.

“Wow.”

While they stand transfixed by the sight, the adults carry on a hushed conversation behind them.

“It’s not one of your better ideas, but if you’re going through with it –”

Sam, clearly eavesdropping the most, “Whose got a bad idea, mom?”

“Your Uncle Luke’s thinking about going out in this crazy weather –” dad starts.

“I’m going to go get mom,” Uncle Luke says quietly to Shmi, whose face seems to be torn between worry and excitement.

“I told him –” dad begins, but mom elbows him sharply in the side.

Pres thinks of the story from forever ago when dad had to save Uncle Luke from the freezing cold of Hoth. Guess dad doesn’t want a repeat performance.

Shmi runs forward to hug him and after he leaves, everyone seems a lot quieter and serious.

Ahsoka breaks the mood first, “So – where are Set and I crashing tonight?”

“Our rooms!” Bee and Sam volunteer together. They have no difficulty remembering the informality of their younger days with Ahsoka.

“Then where are you guys going to be?”

“Mom and dad’s room,” Bee says.

“And where does that put us? The kitchen?” mom asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nope. You’ll be there too,” Sam informs them, matter-of-factly.

“Thank you for your kind offer to allow us to join you,” dad says, very sarcastically.

“No problem!”

Pres knows he’s too old for climbing into bed with mom and dad, but wants to anyway. As everyone slowly begins to move to their final destinations for the night, Pres stays put.

“Aren’t you coming?” Bee asks, hand tightly holding Shmi’s.

Mom and dad’s bed is big, but it is still a snug fit for all six of them. Bee and Sam squeeze around dad, while mom plays with Shmi’s hair. Pres sits, curled up at the foot.

“What do I have to do to get you mynocks in your own beds?” dad half-heartedly grumbles.

“Tell us a story!” Bee chirps up.

Sam and Shmi, and to his own surprise, Pres all chime in with enthusiastic “yeahs!”

If he’s going to act like he’s still a kid, he might as well go all the way.

“What good is a story if you lot are going to keep interrupting me. I overheard Chewie telling you about Ord Mantell the other day.”

“And how he saved your butt!” Sam is practically delighted at the idea dad messed up.

Pres snorts, which earns him an annoyed look from dad, who waves a dismissive hand at Sam’s idea that he’s anything but all together.

“He took a guy out I was going to aim for anyway. He just beat me to it.”

“Not how Chewie tells it,” Pres teases.

Dad launches into his version of what he, Chewie, and Uncle Luke did for the Alliance on Ord Mantell. They all gasp dramatically for effect in the appropriate places; mom laughs at things that aren’t funny and Pres doesn’t get it, but parents are weird.

Once finished, mom sits up, uncurling herself from around Shmi.

“Okay, out. It’s past your bedtime and dad and I want the room back,” mom shoos.

“Gross,” Pres thinks, but doesn’t say anything in front of the girls. Mom pushes them towards their room, while dad follows Pres to his, to ensure he makes it.

Before Pres goes through the door, dad catches him in a one-armed hug.

“Night, kid.”

“Night, dad.”

He pulls his blankets tight around himself, not letting any warmth escape.

\----------

Leaning back against the door, Leia lets out a long sigh. Han’s already sprawled out on the bed, reacquainting himself with the space not covered with children.

“Girls refuse to settle down?” Han asks, voice muffled by the pillow.

“There’s enough hot chocolate in them that they’ll crash soon enough.”

There’s enough hot chocolate in _her_ , Leia’s not sure she has the energy for much else. She works her way slowly back to their bed, partially burrowing under Han.

“Luke make it okay?”

“Yeah.”

She’d whispered the assurance to Shmi when she’d tucked her in. There was a faint smile on her face as she closed her eyes.

“Good, because I am _not_ going out in this weather, let alone taking the Falcon out.”

“So chivalrous of you,” she says dryly.

“I try sometimes.”

Han nuzzles into her stomach; Leia drapes her arms over his shoulders, secure under him. Leia hovers between drowsiness and wakefulness.

His hands working small circles on her bare skin is enough to rouse her consciousness.  Her body does not protest at all tired; she arches upwards.

Between her quickening breaths, “Do we really want to start this now?”

“Mmm” is Han’s only response.

They are lazy and unhurried, reveling in the warmth of each other. Leia loves the tingling thrumming sensation the Force runs through her all over. ( _She’s tried to explain it to Han before. He nods absently and says, “I get the idea.”_ )

Sleep comes slowly after, wrapped around each other. Leia’s last thought before she drifts off is a vision of the sun out again, the snow sparkling.

\----------

Sam wakes up with a crick in her neck. And her head on the wrong end of the bed.

Ahsoka’s left the room. Shmi’s already awake; Bee’s still asleep. Sam thinks about prodding her awake mentally, then thinks better of it.

Sam pulls her legs out from under blankets; the cold makes her shudder but she’s won’t be deterred.

Shaking Shmi’s shoulder, she hisses “Wanna see who else is up?”

The mass of blankets that is her cousin moves only slightly, no indication of actually getting out of bed.

Whatever, Sam’ll find someone else who’ll talk to her.

Mom and Ahsoka are in the kitchen. Sam pulls herself up onto a high stool to meet their eyes up at the counter.

“Ready for a day of practicing meditation?” Ahsoka asks over her mug of caf.

“Ugh, no!”

Mom laughs as Ahsoka shakes her head. Sam’s resigned herself to being the difficult child, but she can’t help it if meditation is the most boring part of training to be a Jedi.

“The others up?” mom asks.

“No – can I try your caf?”

“You’re not going to like it,” mom warns, but passes over the scalding hot cup anyway.

Sam takes a sip. It’s gross.

Nose screwed-up, “I’d like more hot chocolate please.”

“You didn’t have too much last night?” mom asks, or doesn’t ask; more says like she thinks Sam’s already had too much.

“No,” Sam replies, a little defiantly.

Mom smiles slightly, “Alright, but let’s make more for everyone.”

Sam jumps down from the stool and stands next to mom as Ahsoka hands them ingredients. The pot’s just about to boil when the front door slides open and closed.

“Han and Chewie getting in from Falcon maintenance?” Ahsoka wonders out loud.

If it was dad, Sam’d sense him, but it is a presence similar to mom. Plus a relieved look floods mom’s face.

Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara bring a whirlwind of cold air into the apartment as they pull their coats and scarves and all the bundling off them.

“Your nose is as red as your hair,” Uncle Luke teases.

Aunt Mara shoves him playfully, still too cold to respond.

“The thanks I get,” sighs Uncle Luke.

“Shmi still asleep? I expected her here, not you. No offense Sam.”

Sam shakes her head, none taken, “Nah, she’s still in bed, being lazy.”

“Better go fix that then,” and Aunt Mara disappears in pursuit of rousing Shmi.

“Did the X-wing give you any trouble?” Ahsoka asks.

Uncle Luke shakes his head, but Sam doubts it. For as long as she can remember, the decommissioned fighter starship has been constantly under repair, just like the Falcon.

“And how did you both fit?” Sam asks, genuinely curious. Why didn’t Uncle Luke take up a two-person starship? There had to be one available _somewhere_.

“Tightly,” mom answers for him, meant to end the conversation, though the conversation would have ended anyway, when dad and Chewie come in from their own outside adventures.

The adults say their hellos like boring adults; Sam throws herself on dad’s back. Dad groans, but catches her legs so she can wrap her arms around his neck.

Mom stands on her tip-toes to kiss dad, and then in turn, Sam.

“You’re gonna have to do that for me too real soon,” Sam informs mom.

“I’m keeping you at my level. I refuse to allow all of my children tower over me,” mom laughs.

“Then I’m trying harder.”

Everyone laughs. Bee sleepily shuffles out ahead of Aunt Mara and Shmi, who looks awake and very happy her mom’s finally here. Pres and Set come out too.

And the whole family is together again.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
